Serendipity #2.

Your arms looked bigger than usual because
this time around, you were ushering me into a hug, instead of your usual protective,
crossed-arms stance.

Your scars looked like spots on the moon
They were nature taking its course
You rambled endlessly about doing something about them, but I said,
No, no,
You could have just let me caress
Your face.

Your unspoken, hidden pride
I know it is a result of all the loneliness and misery
You’ve spent from fighting losing battles, and so when you’d finally won,
You wear it like an armour.
I love armours; Joan of the Arc adorned them upon a fragile body
So that she could front battles and be a martyr
I loved it on you,
But not when you take the opposite side of the fence and refused to take it off
Against my unarmed self.

When August rain came
Last year
We stopped fighting.

And no one can tell me if we should have continued facing each other in battles
Even if they were dividing us further,
Or that it is better that we’re scrambling on our feet now, trying to cover the gaps like wage differences between
Millennial-old sexes.

No one can tell me how long would our wars
have lasted, or been over
If we had continued fighting
Instead of enjoying this peace
When we care so deeply about each other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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